


Preservation

by out_for_the_day



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Escape from expectations, F/M, Family, House renovations, Non-Magical, Upper Crust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1276900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_for_the_day/pseuds/out_for_the_day
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non-Magic AU. Rated for implied goings-on in later chapters.</p>
<p>Hermione's father took a chance when she was young and grew from a small time dentist to a dental baron, thus catapulting his family into a new echelon of society. Now an adult, Hermione is approached by her former classmate Draco Malfoy to purchase a house.</p>
<p>Hermione never thought for a moment that it would grow so complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Foot In

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Trying my hand at writing again, first time on AO3, however. This story is mostly an exercise, I have never done anything non-magic before, so we'll see how it goes! Updates will be as frequent as possible. Please comment if you are going to be civil and constructive!

Hermione allowed herself a small huff of annoyance as the phone rang. Quickly flicking her curls out of the way, she tucked it between her ear and shoulder and forced a cheery “Hermione Granger!” while still questing for a particular file amongst the many on her desk.

The voice on the other end gave her pause.

“Hermione, its Draco, I’m calling about my proposition.”

She blinked. “You were serious then?” her assistant Victoria swanned past, coat on and bag in hand, before stopping to organize the desk. Hermione smiled at her, seized the file she was looking for, and waved the assistant home as Draco smoothly continued.

“Of course I was serious. It wasn’t just idle banter at an amazingly dull dinner. I absolutely meant it.”

“You’re sure? Because that is awfully close to what it felt like.” Hermione opened the file, stuck flags on a few pages, and settled it on top of the neat Victoria-approved stack in the center of her blotting paper.

“Awfully close, absolutely. But I am serious. I want to go in on a house with you. It’s a sound investment, we can do with it what we want, rent it, demolish it, put it up for resale, anything that we agree on. Understand that this will be an equal share.”

“The Greengrass dinner was what, two weeks ago? And all you had said was wouldn’t it be nice if there was a hole in the wall sort of place one could get away to.”

“Well that _one_ was implying that one and one make two, and _we_ two should go in on a house together. Specifically the house that I’ve just uncovered.”

Hermione sat down. She honestly did not know Draco all that well, on a deeper sort of level, and had been a little surprised, not that she would show it externally, when he had confided in her his desire to escape. Admittedly it was a stuffy political event, one that failed to stand out from the countless dinners and galas and frippery they both had been made to attend their whole lives. But his initial, seemingly wistful, comment had grown to what she had viewed as Draco merely entertaining himself by painting rather pretty pictures of his ideal hole in the wall.

Now, it seemed, she had missed that he was, in effect, making a plan. “What do you mean, ‘you’ve uncovered?’ I am not going in on a house with you, that is just absurd. You’re being rash, and I have work to do.”

“It’s a lovely house.”

“No! Don’t describe it to me. You simply won’t convince me to do this.” Hermione, for her lack of knowledge of him on a friend level, knew some important things about Draco. She knew he was clever, quick, had a rather sarcastic sense of humor, and was excellent at negotiating. He had been all through school.

“Yes, I will.”

Hermione changed tactic. “You’re right. Which is why I am going to cut this call short, before we do something we regret.”

She could hear his grin through the phone. “Come look at it. I’ll give you the address, if you get there and hate it that’s fine, but otherwise you know you’ll be up all night thinking about the wasted possibilities.”

Hermione bit her lip. He was exaggerating of course. But she knew that underneath the exaggeration, there was a kernel of truth. She could practically feel Draco’s comfortable patience through the phone. He was going to get what he wanted; it was the sort of thing he was used to. Hermione supposed it was something she would never understand, but quickly reminded herself she didn’t want to understand being spoilt.

 But he had taste. Something she frequently and subtly had to remind the press did not depend on class, each time they were shocked at an ensemble she wore to one of her father’s openings or how she carried herself when they were on campaign. And while their tastes may have been different, in principle they were the same. And it would be nice to have a place no one knew about, shared only by an acquaintance. Each had their primary residences, and were cordial to one another, so going 50/50 wouldn’t be a problem. Hermione grinned to herself. She was well aware that he had carefully planted the ‘equal partners’ in his ostensibly bland description of the agreement. He had her a little better figured out than she thought.

“When would you want to meet?”

“Well done! I’ll give you the address, meet me in about half an hour?”

“What, now?”

“Alright, forty-five minutes.”

Hermione looked at the clock, then peeked out at the office floor in the renovated townhouse she worked from. There were still a few people working, but it was technically an hour past quitting time. She ran a hand through her hair, eyes settling on a framed picture of herself and her parents, taken a few months prior while they had vacationed in Spain. Her parents were beaming at the camera while she smiled serenely. Hermione narrowed her eyes. That carefully calculated countenance was seeping its way into her personal life, and with sudden resolve, she could not accept that. “Where is it?” 


	2. First Glimpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione, on her way to meet Draco, provides us with some exposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will be getting longer as the story progresses! Happy reading!

Hermione guided her car to the address Draco had supplied her with. He was mad if he thought she would be there in forty-five minutes, but she had a sneaking suspicion he was actually mad anyway, so it shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.

She had to admit questioning her own sanity as she left work. Getting into the car, she had shaken herself and emphatically squashed her feelings of unease and replaced them with the idea of closure. She would go to the house, make sure Draco was fine and not having some sort of manic episode, look about, and feel satisfied in her refusal of the deal.

Hermione sighed and had to restrain herself from running her hands through her hair. The last thing she needed was puffed up hair making her feel self-conscious about her appearance.

When her father had left his dental practice and instead went into making a sort of dental empire, as it were, Hermione’s family went from positively average to stunningly wealthy rather abruptly. His business ranged from helping research disease to selling supplies and developing better tools to assisting in worldwide dental care efforts. A few years ago he had decided to give politics a go, and had been fairly successful. Her mother had made the transition to society wife seamlessly, or at least she made it look that way, throwing herself into charity work and volunteering while making time to hob nob and network.

Hermione sighed again, a little more fondly this time. Her father, for all his aspiration, was really a bookish, balding man, slightly absent-minded when he wasn’t focused on work, and her mother was similarly bookish and sweet, although underneath her smile and flighty exterior there was a very sharp woman. They were warm and supportive, and Hermione adored them.

Which is why she had tried to take their newfound wealth and attention in stride, really she had. At the time it was exciting. Her parents wanted her to attend a very expensive school where her so-called peers could be found. The Granger family was highly concerned with education, and for Hermione there could only be the best. The school itself was terrifying at first, a few snide comments made here and there about her hair or her clothes or her very origins, but once she had found friends and discovered how to stay under the radar of what the society columnists called ‘the game’, it had to be said it was enjoyable.

If she tried, she could still recall the comfortably exhilarating smell of the expansive library.

But it was at this school she first met Draco Malfoy. That wasn’t quite true. She didn’t _meet_ him there; she didn’t meet him until quite a few months later but he was there just the same. They never spoke, although she was sure it was his group of friends that had been the most antagonistic towards her. He was the son of aristocracy, never having wanted for a thing. His parents moved in the highest of circles, and were known for impossibly subtle yet effective power plays. Ruthless in business and in society, they were formidable indeed.

At every occasion that the Grangers and Malfoys were present together, the two families circled each other. Hermione frowned, tugging gently at her lip. It was more accurate to say that their fathers circled each other. She knew her father bore Lucius Malfoy no ill will, and actually wanted to work with him. She and Draco had their odd sort of acquaintance, from school and always being seated near to one another at functions, and their mothers were certainly cordial to one another, but the Malfoy patriarch routinely kept her father at arm’s length. Always within his line of sight, metaphorically speaking, but never really dealing with him.

Meanwhile, outside of reverie, the scenery had decidedly become less urban, and even to an extent less suburban, and Hermione found herself drawing up to a home matching the address on her scrap of paper.

Peering out of the car in fading sunlight, she deflated, resting on the steering wheel. The house was perfect.


	3. Ours Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The layout of the cottage, and the man himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the layout of the cottage isn't too confusing! I can see it so perfectly in my head, but I didn't want to spend pages and pages detailing every inch because nobody wants to read that.
> 
> Also it strikes me that I have never put forth a disclaimer! I make no profits from this and it should be clear that everything recognizable belongs to JKR and or Warner Bros. Etc.

Perhaps ‘perfect’ was an overstatement. The yard was fading and the house looked a little crumbly, but Hermione didn’t care. It was situated a little ways above the town on a decent sized lot, with a bit of wilderness to the left.

The house was actually a little on the larger side, which took Hermione by surprise, not that she had borne any serious expectations, really. If pressed, she would have probably thought that any house Draco would pick would be more modern. With a small snort, she thought that her unlikely co-landlord probably viewed the house as small and shabby.

But, looking at the stone chimney and feeling her heart swell in anticipation, Hermione thought that with the right amount of care this house could be darling. She exited her car and picked her way across the weather-beaten lawn to the small slate roofed awning covering the door. The plant life was thicker here, graying bracken and barren sticks that could have been bushes in another life. The door was cracked open, and swung forward at the pressure of only her fingertips.

Before her there lay a small entry, half-foyer if you were polite, pokey hall if you were not, with a set of stairs and three doors, one at the back of the entry, one to the left of the stair, and one to the right. The balustrade was dark wood, well loved, while the rest of the hall had been whitewashed.

Her footsteps echoed as she explored the downstairs level. There was no sign of Draco, although she had seen what she surmised to be his car, but honestly she was too engaged in discovery to particularly care. Before long, Hermione had uncovered an extremely dated kitchen and scullery to the back, a medium sized dining room, an expansive living room with a wide, charred fireplace, and a room with built in bookcases and cupboards that could be used as a study. Finding herself back at the entryway, she mounted the stairs.

They squeaked a little under her weight, but were perfectly safe, and they carried her up to a wider hall. Three bedrooms, Draco had mentioned on the phone. And she could see a linen closet, and what must be a bathroom. Opening the first unidentified door, it turned out to be a dangerously steep stair up to the attic under the eaves. She moved on. The bathroom posed no trouble to her, and she could see a green room with wainscoting across the hall. The other bedroom doors were open, she could see a navy room along the side with the bathroom, but her curiosity was piqued by the wine colored bedroom across from it. Once inside she noted that there was a small bathroom attached, no storage space other than some built in shelves and two cupboards below them, and marvelous windows looking out at a tree in all its early autumn glory.

Echoing footsteps could be heard from the navy room. Hermione turned to see Draco, himself clad in expertly tailored charcoal and navy, in her doorway. No, in _the_ doorway.

“Glad to see you found it.” His voice was quiet, aware of the stillness in the house.

Hermione flashed him a small smile. “It’s a little out of the way but nothing I couldn’t manage. How on earth did you find this place?”

Draco sidled forward to where she was standing in the middle of the floor, hands tucked carelessly in his pockets. “I cannot reveal my sources.”

“There isn’t even a sign out front, is it actually for sale?”

He scoffed. “No, Granger, I brought you here for a spot of breaking and entering. Yes, I promise you it is for sale, and it has been on the market for ages. I’m sure the sign either blew over or the agent thought it was too out of the way for the sign to be of much use.”

Ignoring his reversion to use of her surname, Hermione pressed forward. “Well what about the price then? It’s a good sized house, if a little run down in places. I mean I have to say, your taste is impeccable, but surely it is a little too good to be true.”

“I will repeat that the house has been on the market for ages. They are desperate to sell, and as you said, it could use some renovating, so they are practically giving it away.” He smirked. “And I am sure by now you know my taste to be impeccable. I think what you meant is, the house is not what you would have expected me to invest in.”

Hermione colored a little as he met her eyes. “It does seem a little more…well, to be honest, a little more me than you.”

He turned, which she wasn’t expecting, and walked towards the shelves at the back of the room. “It is undeniably an escape. It is a cottage compared to my family home, but is has character all its own, and I don’t mind the size.” He looked at her sidelong. “After all, it would only be one or both of us here at a time, unless we’re renting, so it meets our needs admirably.” He looked away again. “It is exactly what I envisioned.”

Hermione looked out the window. Hadn’t he said those few weeks ago, that he wanted a cottage? She could smack herself. He sounded as enamored as she was.

“I love it.”

The whisper hung in the air between them. Turning to him, she continued with more confidence. “I thought you were completely crazy when you called earlier but I cannot get over this house, the whole idea. You have a partner, if you want one.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You don’t mind that there isn’t a bathroom on the first floor? Or that the kitchen needs gutting?”

“I don’t care a whit.” Those two imperfections were the tip of the iceberg, but she was being as honest as possible.

Draco’s face broke into a rather charming grin. “The agent is a short walk from here. It can be ours tonight if you want it.”

Hermione glanced out the window. “Surely they would have gone home by now.”

The grin broadened. “I talked to her earlier. She said she would be happy to come in later this evening and get our signatures, I just need to give her another call.”

“What?”

“Come on, Granger, we’ve no time to lose!”

Slightly bewildered, a little excited, but mostly annoyed, Hermione followed Draco out of the house and into ownership.


	4. Seeking Substance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An odd beginning over dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing recognizable!
> 
> Thank you so much for checking out the story! I am so happy to be getting feedback:)
> 
> Also: I know they drink in this chapter and then drive home so I would just like to say that in the story neither of them is over the limit, both are safe to drive home. Drinking and driving is not okay and I don't condone it in the slightest.

The agent had been thrilled to have someone buy the house, they filled out the paperwork entrusting it to their care and she happily sent them on their way, saying they would work out the rest later.

Draco had insisted they stop to buy a bottle of wine to celebrate, and then managed to talk the shopkeeper into giving them some firewood from his own supply.

“But what if the chimney is blocked!” Hermione protested as they hiked towards their new home.

Draco grinned. “It was cleared last week.”

“What?”

“When I started talking to the agent, she had some things checked for me. The chimney was one of them.”

“So you’ve known about this for more than a week, but tossed me in at the last second?” He chuckled. “I can’t believe you.”

“Can’t you? Listen, you love the house. It was all over your face. You can’t keep anything secret from anyone, did you know? It was also evident, to me at least, that we both need a sort of safe house. At the time it was really only evident to me that I needed one, but I thought I could reasonably assume you were the same way, and really, who better to own a house with.”

Hermione opened her mouth to question him further, put off guard by the dubious compliment, but he instead asked her to carry their meager shopping so he could open the door. Once inside, they set their wine and rapidly cooling take out in the kitchen and set the firewood by the grate. Some furniture and assorted household objects had been piled in a corner of the living room, and they hauled a thick rug, somewhat musty and certainly dusty, to the floor before the fireplace. Hermione busied herself getting their slapdash supper set out on the floor while Draco laid the fire.

It was oddly, tranquilly, domestic.

While they ate, they discussed small things and plans for the house, and when the food ran out and the wine ran in, they discussed a clever mixture of unimportant, past, and stupid. It was the most fun Hermione had in longer than she cared to admit.

“Alright, Granger, when was your last really good shag?”

“I beg your pardon!”

Draco ignored her sputtering, grinning a little evilly. “Alright we’ll call it a serious relationship.”

She laughed. “I suppose two years ago. I don’t really care that much about it. It’s just too hard to juggle, and I definitely wouldn’t want to date anyone from our circle and just be someone’s brainless society bride.”

“I see your point.”

Hermione missed his looking at her thoughtfully, instead pouring more into her clear plastic cup. “This wine isn’t so bad really, considering the shop we got it from.”

“It is absolute swill, and you know it.”

“My tastes probably just aren’t as refined as yours.” She smiled sweetly at him. “Now, when was your last proper relationship? I’m thinking it was Pansy Parkinson.”

“I snogged her on a dare when we were fifteen-”

“Exactly.”

He glared at her. “And that is all it was.” He reclined on his elbow. “I suppose, other than the vastly exaggerated claims of the press, you could say that Daphne Greengrass was my last real relationship. Not my last shag though.”

“Really? For once I thought the gossip rags could be wrong. Wait, but Daphne? I thought you had had designs on her sister.”

He rolled his eyes. “God, no. That would be Father’s doing. I mean for Chrissakes, she is named after a hotel! Daphne doesn’t have much substance, but it is twice what Astoria has.”

“Well at least the Astoria is a nice hotel. She’s younger than us, anyway, maybe she just hasn’t matured yet.”

“Granger, you cannot possibly be siding with everyone else on this. Two years is not that far behind us, and you know as well as I that she has never displayed any emotional depth.”

Hermione nodded in assent. They had, after all, attended the same school. “I suppose you are right. I wasn’t aware you were into ‘substance.’”

“Oh, to be young, Granger.” He quickly sallied forth, ignoring her indignant squawk and the fact she was older by nine months. “I am finding substance attractive, these days, as I age evermore gracefully.” He failed to ignore her rather unladylike snort. “Alright then, what is it that gets _you_ ‘up in the morning.’ As it were.”

“That’s disgusting. And none of your business.”

“Possibly true, but I await your answer regardless. And none of that nonsense about a sense of humor or care and kindness.”

“You didn’t say anything about what you look for in a partner! Other than substance, in which case, substance is my answer too.”

“Unoriginal.”

“What?”

He carefully prised the wine bottle from her fingers. “I said, unoriginal. You copied my answer.”

“Oh come off it, it isn’t as if we’re taking exams.”

“No, but it is not—did you want any more of this? No? Alright—conducive to furthering the conversation.”

“Well, define substance then.”

“I am not entirely sure I can.”

“Then we have reached an impasse.”

They sat comfortably, Hermione swirling the dregs in her glass, Draco finishing what little was left in the bottle.

Just as Hermione was casting around for something to say, Draco looked at her. “How do you want to go about fixing up the house? I mean we’ll need a contractor and everything for the kitchen and laundry and all that, but the smaller projects.”

“I suppose I could do some of it? I don’t know if you’re opposed to that sort of thing, but I don’t mind it.”

“I’m not opposed to it, exactly. I’ve just never done it. I didn’t know if you wanted to hire, say, decorators or something.”

“Oh, no. I think it would be fun to do, actually. There is no point bringing someone in for something I can definitely do on my own.”

“So sorry, I forgot one of your many degrees is in interior décor, how foolish of me.”

Hermione blushed and swatted at him. “I just mean that I’ll feel more comfortable if I do it. It will cost enough to redo the kitchen.”

“I was anticipating you saying something like that. But listen, it is hardly fair for you to do all the work.”

“Well you’ll have a say in it, obviously. I really don’t mind. My only worry is finding the time.”

Hermione had the distinct impression that Draco had actually anticipated the entire conversation, particularly at his next comment. “Why don’t we find a contractor, get all the major projects set and rolling, and then, whenever you are free, you can spend the weekend here?” He turned serious. “You never actually said why you were interested in this. I know that you have a tendency to compartmentalize, and it is clear, to me at least, that you are tired of the box you put yourself in.” She stared back at him. “The house is at your disposal, every weekend, to work on. No expectations.”

Trying to brush off his alarmingly perceptive comment, Hermione speedily agreed. “Of course! I am totally fine with that arrangement. I mean, you’re welcome to come too, but I think that this way makes the most sense and I in no way whatsoever feel like it’s unfair. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

His face relaxed. “Excellent! Well, in that case, I will look around for some contractors, we can interview them, and then we can get the house together. In the meantime, as lovely as this has been, we should probably be heading back.”

Hermione assented, and they cleared their things into the shopping bags, which Draco offered to dispose of at his flat, put out the fire, and locked the door behind them.

 


End file.
